The Dagger
by Vanillasiren
Summary: Regina dreams of Rumplestiltskin's dagger and the ways she can wield it. Probably the darkest thing I've written for them. You have been warned.


The Dagger

Summary: Regina dreams of Rumplestiltskin's dagger and the ways she can wield it. Probably the darkest thing I've written for them. You have been warned.

It doesn't look as impressive as she thought it would.

The blade is wavy, not smooth or simple. It seems appropriate she thinks, given all his twists and turns, his machinations. She tests the weight of it in her hand, runs her fingers along its sharp edges. She presses her thumb to the tip, and a single drop of blood falls to the ground.

The dagger bears his name.

_I can make him do anything._

_Anything._

_Anything._

_Anything._

_I_

Snow white's blood is so red against the pure white of her clothes. She's always pure, so pure, so untainted, there is never one wrong thing about her, the poor, poor _innocent_ little dove, her eyes so impossibly wide, uncomprehending, holding herself blameless, even in death …

"_You're to be my mother."_

Regina doesn't understand why her throat suddenly grows tight.

Charming is different. His face is contorted in pain, rage burns in his eyes, and his last words are "You will not win." It makes The Evil Queen cackle, because she knows this part, knows how to play this role, he's so pretty and _stupid_ and it was never about him but she has so much hate to spare, so why not spend some on him too?

"Henry will never forgive you."

Emma voice is cracked, like her lips, split and bleeding, and there's blood pouring from her mouth, but somehow she still manages to get out the words, and then thelaughter dies in Regina's throat, and she knows it's time to be cold.

This one was a worthy opponent, at least.

"Henry will never know," she whispers.

She's sure Emma wants to say more after that, but somehow, dying seems to get in the way.

"_You … evil … soul_."

He's kneeling on the ground before her, covered in their blood. Oh, this is the best part. It's ecstasy, it's ecstasy. _This_ is what revenge is, what it should taste like, thick like honey on her tongue, like liquid fire pouring down her throat, power radiating from every fiber of her being …

"I learned from the best, Rumple darling," she purrs.

When he tries to stand up and advance upon her, Regina raises the dagger. With a mere flick of her wrist, she forces him back down to the ground.

"Maybe I'll make you kill Belle next," she tells him. The look on face ….

_Break for me. Break for me. Break for me._

_No, that's not good enough, Rumple. You aren't in enough pieces yet. You aren't in enough little suffering shards, you bastard, you bastard …_

"No one will _ever_ love you," he whispers.

Regina screams.

_II_

"Don't let her, Rumple. Don't let her hurt me again."

She is the baby in his arms, the virgin in his bed, the thorn in his side. She is all of these things at once, and none of them, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't have to make sense, the only real thing is the dagger in her hand, as her mother advances upon her to administer another punishment, another lesson.

"_Oh, I'll stop using magic. When you start being an obedient daughter."_

This is where Regina is supposed to say she'll be good.

But she is The Evil Queen. She'll never be good again.

It's like a dance, between them, dark and intimate and deadly, and Regina curls into a little ball, closes her eyes, shuts herself up tight, because no matter what her mother's done oh _it hurts it hurts it hurts_ see her suffer, but the sting of her magic is worse, always worse, and Rumple has to protect her now, he has to _save_ her, whether he wants to or not …

"It's done, Regina."

She opens her eyes, but she can't look, not at first.

She thought she was standing over her mother's corpse once, and that turned out to be a lie.

She is terrified it's a lie now. She _hopes_ it's a lie now.

Cora can't really be dead. Can she?

"_I love you."_

"_For you, sweetheart, anything."_

Regina crawls over to her mother. She has no pulse, no breath. Her skin is cold, and her eyes are open, wide and lifeless.

The sobs that wrack her body are equal parts despair and relief.

She feels the touch of his hand on her shoulder. Wordlessly, he kneels beside her, and she curls into him, the sweet dark magic of him, and finally her tears subside.

"She didn't really love you, you know," Rumplestiltskin says, quite calmly. Regina pulls away and looks up at him.

"No one could." He strokes her face with infinite tenderness.

"No one will _ever_ love you," he whispers.

Regina screams.

_III_

It's pressed against his throat.

His hand is on her wrist, his eyes wide, and he _trembles_, he actually trembles, because underneath the centuries of power and manipulation, the truth is that he's just a coward after all, nothing but a sniveling, spineless, pathetic coward, and she doesn't know what she ever saw in him that made her think otherwise.

He can't save her. He can't save anyone. Least of all himself.

"_Please_," he whispers, and she presses the dagger in deeper, and he begins to bleed. _Beg_, she wants to hiss. _Go ahead and beg. It won't do you any good, but I'll enjoy it._

"You don't want this," he tells her.

"You think I don't want this power?"

"You don't want this burden." Suddenly his voice is steadier, stronger. Not strained, but silky and smooth…

Regina begins to be afraid. He's not shaking anymore. His eyes are dark and wide and deep and they bore into her, strip her bare.

The blade moves away from his neck … _somehow _… a neck which now bears no trace of blood. Regina backs away as he advances upon her, calm steady, measure steps with no trace of a limp. Her back hits the wall, and she grips the dagger tight, and holds it front of her, but he grabs her wrist and pins her body with his, grinning maniacally, like the twisted little imp that he is.

"I know what you want," he growls, and kisses her.

Regina moans into his mouth as the dagger falls from her hand.

"Stop it, stop it," she hisses, when they come up for air, but then she's drawing him closer, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the heat flush her skin and pool in between her legs. "You bastard, you bastard … aah …" He trails kisses down her neck, then rips her shirt open, and his hands find her breasts, cupping and kneading and fondling, and when he takes one hardened bud into his mouth and _sucks_, Regina whimpers, hating herself for it but unable to hold back. Her hands are shaking so badly, she doesn't know how she managers to unfasten him, but somehow she does. And when he whispers to her to hike her skirt up, she does that too, and then he rips her underwear off, lifts her up against the wall, and plunges himself inside her, _inside her_, and she _can't_ ….

"I hate you, I hate you … b-bastard …. I hate you … I … I … ooh Rumple _just like that_, ooh gods Rumple _harder_, oh yes, oh yes yes _yes_ …"

When it's over, she's the one who's trembling, all shaky limbs and slick skin. She rests her head on his shoulder, and for a moment there is only the sound of them panting, trying to catch their breath.

"Regina," he whispers, his arms wrapped around her. "Regina, my wicked one."

"_Yes_."

He pulls back and smiles.

It takes her a minute to comprehend the pain, to look down and see the dagger, _his_ dagger, plunged into her chest, through her heart.

"No one will _ever_ love you," he whispers.

Regina screams.


End file.
